The Other Team
by pastries and turtlenecks
Summary: High school was hard enough for Chris Thomas without an attractive football player trying to lure him out of the closet - for all the wrong reasons.
1. The Plan

It was only first period of the first day of school, and Christopher Thomas already had a bad feeling about his senior year. Somehow, his parents had talked him into taking advanced biology, a subject he was good at and liked well enough, but didn't want to touch with a ten foot pole. Advanced biology meant a dissection almost every week, and even the _word_ dissection made Chris' skin crawl. He could handle genetics and biochemistry and every other sub-topic in the class, but dissections reduced him to a queasy mess. The fact that he'd managed not to pass out during his biology final exam freshman year, which included a rat dissection, was impressive.

"Welcome back, everybody!" greeted the teacher, Mrs. Martin, who was clearly eager to begin, clad in her lab coat and rubber gloves. "I hope you're all excited for a thrilling year of advanced biology!" She paused, expecting the class to show their excitement somehow, but most of the students were half-asleep. "Anyway," she continued, not letting her disappointment show in her voice, "don't get too comfy in those seats, because we haven't assigned lab partners yet!"

Mrs. Martin picked up a glass jar filled with folded slips of paper from her desk. "I've put half of the class in this jar, and the other half will pick a name from it. You first, Michelle," she said, holding the jar out in front of the girl. Michelle dug around, pulled out a slip, and squealed when she read it. She and the girl sitting next to her hugged and stayed in their places.

The next boy to pick a name blushed furiously and glanced over at its owner, a redheaded girl in the back of the room who smiled and waved at him shyly. The next girl grimaced and tried to hide her disappointment as she was paired with the boy sleeping in the corner of the room. "This is gonna be a long year," Chris heard her mutter as she reluctantly carried her bag over to the boy's table.

Finally, Mrs. Martin approached Chris, who dug his hand around in the jar without much thought. "James Church," he read aloud, almost instantly feeling a few girls glaring daggers at him. He recognized that name, anyone would. James Church was the handsome linebacker for the varsity football team. From what Chris understood, he was plenty smart, but rather cocky. He figured that was some kind of requirement to be on the football team, though: be good-looking and arrogant and know how to throw the ball. Chris didn't really think he personally met _any_ of those qualifications, which is why he was on the swim team instead.

James plopped down in the chair next to Chris and greeted him with a wide grin. "Howdy, partner," he said in an attempt to be funny, but Chris just stared at him dubiously with a raised eyebrow. James cleared his throat and tried again, holding out his hand. "I'm James, obviously. Guess we're gonna be spending first period together for a while?"

"Looks like it," Chris said, slowly shaking his hand. "I'm Chris Thomas. I'm just gonna warn you now, we can work together on every other assignment, but when the dead animals and the scalpels come out, you're on your own." He glanced to the front of the room and winced as he saw Mrs. Martin prepping dissection trays with earth worms.

"Not a strong stomach, huh?" James asked. "Don't worry; once you've seen the kind of injuries you see in football, animal guts are nothing."

"Alrighty, now that we're all settled in, what better way to start the year than with a dissection?" Mrs. Martin asked eagerly. Chris held his composure, but paled slightly. Earthworms were nothing compared to, say, a fetal pig, but he was still NOT looking forward to cutting it open.

Mrs. Martin handed out the trays; a long, limp earthworm lay pinned to the rubber on each. A scalpel, scissors, tweezers, and a few flags with various organs written on them were set next to the specimen. "I want you to remove the organs listed on the flags, and identify them. You can use this packet to guide you, but I'd like to see how much you remember from your last biology class," she said, passing back sheets of paper and pairs of gloves.

James snapped on his gloves as soon as he got them and picked up the scalpel, hovering over the worm intently. "The first incision should be around here, right?" he asked, tracing a line above the worm.

Chris flipped open the packet and looked at the instructions. "Exactly there, actually," he said, sounding impressed. James made the cut and continued to stare at the specimen, biting his bottom lip in thought. "You're pretty good at this, huh?" Chris asked.

James shrugged, making another cut and snipping something out. He stuck the flag labeled "Lower Aortic Arch" into the small piece of flesh. "Sports got me into athletic training, and a general interest in bodies," he said nonchalantly. After a moment he glanced over at Chris. "In a normal, scientific way, of course," he clarified, having realized his phrasing was somewhat awkward.

The rest of the period went well; Chris opted to leave James to his work (and not even risk a glance at what he was doing) and instead busied himself with studying his schedule. He knew he had free with Connor McKinley and Nabulungi Hatimbi, so he'd at least have someone to eat lunch with, but he was in the dark for the rest of his classes.

At the end of the class, after having cleaned up the remnants of their experiment (one boy gave up labeling parts and opted to instead turn his worm to mush, Mrs. Martin wasn't very happy with him), Chris and James headed out the door, muttered goodbyes to one another, and parted ways. Chris headed to college prep English, James to gym class, neither one aware of the interrogations they were about to endure.

* * *

"Chris!" Nabulungi squealed when the boy in question entered the classroom. She got up from her desk and nearly tripped over another one as she ran to hug Chris. "I'm so happy to see you! How was your summer?"

"Boring, as always," Chris said, happy to see his friend. "But what about you? How was camp?" After having attended the camp most of her childhood, Nabulungi was finally old enough to be a counselor-in-training at her summer camp.

"Amazing! The kids are so great and it was so much fun and…" She glanced all around them, making sure nobody was eavesdropping. "I met a boy there!"

Chris feigned horror. "Nabulungi, those kids are like, ten!" he said, but she only laughed and lightly hit his arm.

"A boy our age, stupid," she said, still laughing. They headed over to two desks next to each other. "He was one of the CIT's at the neighboring camp. I got to see him when we would have inter-camp activities, but I didn't get to talk to him much."

"Didja kiss?" Chris teased, causing Nabulungi to go bright red.

"No we did not!" she stuttered out, trying to hide her face from the other students. "We only got to talk a little bit. I didn't even get his phone number."

The teacher cleared his throat at the front of the room. "Welcome to college prep English, everyone. Obviously you're here because you weren't good enough for advanced English, but still need it to not crash and burn in college."

"Gee, thanks," Chris muttered to Nabulungi, who tried not to giggle.

"I'm Mr. Harris," the teacher continued, having either ignored or not heard Chris, "and I hope you all did the summer reading, because you're getting an assignment on it right now." A few students groaned as he began to pass back packets. "Judging by this course's poor track record in regards to how many people actually read the book, I'll let you work in pairs. It's due by the end of the period." The class visibly relaxed and began pushing their desks together.

Having both read the book, Nabulungi and Chris whizzed through the packet, left with plenty of time to catch up with one another. "How about you?" Nabulungi said, flipping her assignment closet and signing her name at the top. "You must have done _something _interesting while school was out."

"Unless you count babysitting Emma and her little friends while they had nightly sleepovers as interesting, no, nothing worth talking about," Chris said.

"Oh," Nabulungi said, sounding disappointed. "Well, how was biology? You puke yet?" she teased.

Chris stuck his tongue out at her. "No, I haven't puked yet," he said, rolling his eyes. "And we even did a dissection! How's that for manly?"

Nabulungi laughed softly. "Oh yes, so manly. What was it? An owl pellet? A worm?" Chris nodded. "How did you manage cutting a worm open?"

"I didn't. My lab partner James did most of the work."

Nabulungi nodded, vaguely interested, before her eyes shot wide open. "James who?" she asked slowly.

"James Church?"

She had to cover her mouth to not squeal. "You get to spend first period with James Church every day for the whole year?" she asked, trying to keep her excited voice soft so she wouldn't draw attention to them.

"Yeah, so?" Chris asked, shrugging. "I don't get what's so great about him. From what I've heard he's kind of an asshole."

"But he's so hot!" Nabulungi said, blushing as she realized what a teenage girl she sounded like. "I mean, there are worse things to be stuck looking at for an hour every morning."

Chris laughed softly. "You've certainly moved on quickly from camp boy, haven't you?"

"His name is Arnold," Nabulungi squeaked out, "and while James Church is very attractive, Arnold is special."

"Whatever you say," Chris said, smiling and shaking his head.

"You should get his number," Nabulungi prompted after a beat of silence.

Chris raised an eyebrow at her. "I'm not gay," he replied.

"I didn't say _you_ should call him!"

"You're impossible," he said through a laugh.

* * *

James wasn't five steps into the locker room when he was nearly tackled by a few members of the football team.

"If it isn't Jamie! How was your summer, man?" Kevin Price, running back, slapped James on the back in greeting. Noah Neely, Vince Michaels, and Eric Schrader were right behind him.

"Busy," James said, individually greeting his teammates. "Between work and summer training for football, I barely had time for myself."

"Or for the ladies," Vince teased, and the guys all laughed. "But come on, man, you at least had time to get a _little_, right?"

"Well," James trailed off for suspense. "Just a little," he said with a grin.

"You dog!" Eric said, high-fiving James.

The boys exchanged summer stories, taking their sweet time changing for gym, until Vince spoke up again. "Saw you talking to that Chris Thomas kid after first, man. What was up with that?"

James shrugged. "He's my lab partner in advanced biology."

Noah raised an eyebrow. "Didn't he like, pass out when that Davis kid puked in the lunch room?"

"Yeah, I thought he was the most squeamish kid in the school or something," Kevin said.

"He kind of is. We cut up some worms and I had to do all the work."

"God, that kid's such a queer," Vince said. Most of the other guys nodded in agreement.

"Really?" James asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, totally," Eric said. "Why do you think he's so pale? That kid's so far in the closet he's probably never even seen the sun."

"Shame he'll probably never come out," Kevin mused.

Vince raised an eyebrow. "Well… Why don't we give him a little help?"

"What're you getting at?" James asked.

"Think about it. All we gotta do it get him to fall for some irresistible guy, and then he'll be ready to tell the whole school… Perhaps at homecoming?"

"You mean, like, outing him?" Kevin asked apprehensively. "I dunno, is that really a good idea?"

"Don't think of it as outing him," Eric began, putting a hand on Kevin's shoulder. "Just think of it as unlocking the closet door for him… And pushing him out, in front of the whole school."

"It'd be easy," Vince cut in. "Get him to think he has a chance with some guy, string him along for a while, and get him to confess his feelings at the homecoming dance, conveniently near a microphone or a camera, or both."

"Yeah, but who's gonna be the guy?" James asked.

Eric glanced around their group for a moment. "Neely! Hows about you take one for the team, bro?"

Noah's eyes widened. "No way, man! My girlfriend would kill me if I was gay!"

Vince laughed. "Right, sorry. Didn't know Paige still had you wrapped around her little finger." Noah said nothing, opting to punch Vince in the arm instead.

"What about you?" Eric asked, looking at James. "You've got that whole 'I'm so irresistible I could get anyone to want me' thing going on."

Noah nodded. "Yeah, and you're his lab partner, so you can spend time with him without it looking weird!"

James shrugged. "Sure, I guess. It might be kind of fun."

"Alright!" Vince said, starting to head out the door to go to class. "Just get him to like you and make him think he has a chance, alright? This is gonna be legendary!"

"Are you really gonna do this?" Kevin asked James. "Is outing someone really something you'd do?"

"We're not outing him," Eric said, he and Noah following Vince out. "We're just helping him come to terms with himself, whether he wants to or not. It'll be fun!"

"What's the worst that could happen?" James assured Kevin before following the others to the gym. Kevin sighed and went with them.

Thus, the plan, creatively dubbed 'The Plan', was born.


	2. Possibilities

Chris stood at the edge of the cafeteria, scanning the tables. His eyes landed on a table where Nabulungi and Connor sat, flagging him down. He smiled and headed over to their table, plunking himself down across from them.

"Hey Chris," Connor greeted. "Long time no see, man. How've you been?"

"Pretty good, can't really complain," Chris replied.

"Did you do anything fun over the summer? Nabulungi was just telling me about some camp hottie she met."

With that, Nabulungi gasped softly, eyes trained over Chris' shoulder. "There he is," she whispered, discretely pointing across the cafeteria.

Chris craned his neck to look over his shoulder. "Who, Kevin Price?" he asked, trying his best to follow Nabulungi's gaze.

Connor stiffened at the name, eyes locked on its owner. "Kevin Price flirted with you at camp?" he asked, voice tense.

"No, no, not him!" Nabulungi said in a hushed voice, causing Connor to visibly relax. "The one behind Kevin!"

Sure enough, Chris kept looking, and finally spotted a boy following Kevin like a lost puppy. He had unruly black curls, rectangular glasses, and a Comic Con 2010 t-shirt on. "That's Arnold?" he asked, watching as he stuck to Kevin like glue. Whenever he faced away from Arnold, Kevin looked annoyed, but would feign interest in everything the boy had to say. He was clearly too polite to ask him to leave.

"Mmhmm," Nabulungi nodded, staring at him with dreamy eyes. "He is very sweet. He couldn't pronounce my name, so he would call me Naba. I had no idea he went here."

"Sounds like a romantic comedy," Connor said, and he and Chris shared a laugh.

Nabulungi pouted indignantly. "I don't see anybody flirting with either of you!" she said. She raised an eyebrow and glanced over Chris' shoulder again, a sly smirk playing at her lips. "I take that back. Don't look now, Chris."

Chris shot her a confused look, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Hey there, lab partner," James said, leaning over Chris' shoulder to flash him a grin.

Chris glanced from James to the hand that was still on his shoulder. "Hey… James. What's up?"

James sat down in the chair next to Chris, finally removing his hand. "I heard through the grapevine that Mrs. Marin is giving us a huge assignment on the Human Genome Project tomorrow. I figured we could get together later sometime this week and get started on it."

"Yeah, sounds good. _That _I can help with," Chris said, sheepishly referring to his dissection phobia.

"Great!" James said, clapping Chris on the back. "Can I get your number? I'll call you later and we can work out a schedule."

Chris stared at him for a moment, before blinking back to attention. "Right, yeah, here," he said, grabbing Connor's pen and a clean napkin. He scribbled down his phone number and handed it to James. "Talk to you later, I guess?"

"Will do, partner," James said, getting up, winking at Chris, and heading back to his own table.

Nabulungi was very clearly excited about the exchange, as she let out a built-up squeal once James was out of earshot. "Did you SEE that?"

Chris raised an eyebrow. "Uh, yeah, I was there?"

She rolled her eyes and leaned in close to Chris. "He was flirting with you so much, I felt like I was intruding on something!" she said in a hushed, yet excited voice.

"No he wasn't," Chris said, giving her a look. "And I'm not gay!" he added defensively.

"Maybe not, but I am," Connor said, leaning back in his chair. "Think you could hook me up, Chris?"

"Giving up on Kevin so soon?" Chris asked, smirking.

Connor blanched. "Am I really that obvious?" he groaned.

"It was supposed to be a secret?" Nabulungi asked, genuinely confused.

"Yeah, the fact that he hasn't caught you checking out his ass yet is a miracle," Chris laughed.

Connor rolled his eyes, but smiled. "Whatever. But really, can you blame me? He's so… Perfect."

"Then you'd better get on that before someone else does," Chris said.

"I should say the same for you," Nabulungi teased, pointing across the cafeteria again.

Chris glanced over his shoulder and almost immediately saw James leaning on a far table, smiling handsomely at a few giggling girls. James glanced up from his audience and caught sight of Chris, giving him a small smile. Chris whipped his head back around, feeling his cheeks warm up ever so slightly.

"I'm not gay," he assured her again, turning his attention back to his food. Despite his claims, he couldn't help but feel the tiniest hint of jealousy.

* * *

Sure enough, the next day, James' prediction came true.

"The Human Genome Project!" Mrs. Martin tugged on the overhead screen and it rolled back up to the ceiling, revealing her last few words written on the white board in big, decorative letters. "What better way to start off the year than with an assignment on the most widespread scientific research project in history?" Her enthusiasm was clearly not shared by her students. Anyway, we'll discuss the project, and then you'll each be assigned a chromosome. I want to know EVERYTHING about this chromosome. I'll hand out packets that explain everything in detail later, but first, let's start at the beginning. The Human Genome Project began in October of 1990…"

With that, Chris began tuning out his teacher, focusing instead on doodling on his planner. Most of the class had made the same decision – a few people were texting, some were already catching up on homework for other classes, and the boy in the corner of the room was asleep again.

Chris spent his class graphically depicting the Stick Human vs. Stick Horse wars, surrounding his crudely-drawn soldiers with cubes and stars. He was just about to start negotiations at the Stick Human-Stick Horse Peace Conference when he felt a pair of eyes watching him.

"Quite a masterpiece you've got going on there, don't stop on my account," James whispered with a warm smile.

Again, Chris felt his cheeks warm up. "They're just doodles," he whispered back, consciously trying to keep the teacher from hearing them. She was much too wrapped up in her lecture to notice.

"They're cute, though," James replied. Chris honestly misheard 'they're' as 'you're'.

Needless to say he didn't pay much attention to the lesson that day.

* * *

"You heading out, Chris?"

"Nah, I gotta run to work so I'm gonna shower here. I'll see you tomorrow, good work today Brandon."

"See you!"

Chris set his duffle bag on the bench in the locker room and let out a breath as he heard the door slam shut. The swim team was gung-ho about winning their first competition, so they'd started practices the second day of school. Chris wasn't bothered, he liked swimming, but between swim practice and work at the library, he'd have no time for homework. Specifically, biology homework.

He dug around his bag for a towel, and two small bottles of shampoo and body wash. He normally avoided the locker room showers at all costs, but there was no way he was going to work smelling of chlorine.

Once he'd stripped off his clothes, he wrapped his towel around himself, despite being alone in the room. It was force of habit by now – Chris had always been self-conscious of his scrawny, pale body, and wasn't going to risk letting anyone see it. Only when he was in the safety of the shower stall did he disrobe and hang the towel on its hook.

The hot running water relaxed his muscles almost immediately. Not wanting to waste any time, he got to work scrubbing his hair with shampoo, desperately working the chlorine out before it dyed his hair green.

If it weren't for the soap in his ears, he would have heard the door open and shut. And the footsteps approaching. However, he did hear the voice.

"Fancy seeing you here, partner."

Against his better judgment, Chris whipped around, instantly going beet red and covering himself as best as he could with his hands. James Church just _had_ to walk in, all sweaty and muddy, clad only in a towel around his waist, while Chris stood naked in the shower, head covered in pale pink suds, didn't he?

James could tell Chris was uncomfortable, so he averted his eyes and gave what he thought was a comforting smile. He stood in the shower stall immediately to Chris' right, and hung his towel on its hook.

Chris was becoming increasingly aware of how _naked_ the two of them were. The only thing concealing the other man was a thin piece of plastic hiding everything between the bottom of his ribcage and the tops of his knees. Chris snuck a glance and instantly regretted it, regretted how _good_ the other boy looked.

"So… What brings you here so late?" James asked. Small talk, great.

"I, uh," Chris stuttered, face still pink. He gulped and started over. "I had swim practice. W-what about you?"

James shrugged, running a hand through his hair to smooth the shampoo into it. "Running drills with some incoming freshmen. None of them are really any good," he said, glancing at Chris with a smirk. He looked away when Chris glared at him. "Sorry," he mumbled an apology.

Chris stared at the shower head and tried not to think about the fact that James _Church_ was less than three feet away from him, naked, sopping wet, and looking unusually attractive. He no longer felt relaxed by the shower, rather, his head felt cloudy and he couldn't think straight.

Desperate to get out of there as soon as possible, Chris haphazardly ran some body wash over himself, rinsing it off without having done a very thorough job. He turned the water off, wrapped his towel around as much of his body as he could, gathered his things, and practically ran back to his bag. "Well, see you around," he mumbled to James.

"Why the sudden hurry?"

"I, ah, I gotta run to work. If I'm late for my shift again my coworker will kill me for making her wait."

"Alright," James replied dully. "When do you get off? I'll call you and we can talk about –"

"Don't call me, I'll call you," Chris cut him off, having gotten dressed in record-breaking time. He shoved his things back in his back and ran out the door.

He didn't call James that night.


	3. Date Night

Chris didn't sleep very well that night. He tossed and turned all night, wondering how he was supposed handle seeing James the next day. Usually when he would embarrass himself - which happened as little as possible - he would do his best to avoid anyone involved until they forgot about it. That wasn't a viable option when the first big grade of the year relied on him spending time with his biology partner.

So he settled for pretending the incident never happened, and was finally able to get some much needed rest.

He couldn't do much to hide his tired appearance the next morning, so he acted as chipper as possible to compensate. "You seem… Happy," James remarked as the bell rang.

"Do I?" Chris asked, acting oblivious. He shrugged. "I just have a good feeling about today, I guess."

James smiled. "Well, that's good. Hey, are you busy later? We still need to get some work done, and you never called me back last night…"

"Oh, right, sorry," Chris replied, a bit too hastily. "Got pretty caught up at work, and I barely had time to eat and do homework, you know?"

"Yeah, I understand," James said, and Chris let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding. "Are you working today, though?"

"Oh, no, we should get together, shouldn't we?"

"Yeah, that'd be a good idea," James said. His face became serious for a moment. "D'you think we could meet up at your house? My parents are… They've got something going on."

Chris nodded. "Yeah, sure, of course. Five sound good?"

"Five it is."

And with that, Chris realized he was having James Church over to his house. He wasn't sure why, but he had a sudden urge to clean something.

* * *

Nabulungi sat along the wall of the school gym with her friend Tamara. She leaned forward to stretch, knowing that as soon as the teacher showed up (whenever that would be) they would be headed outside to run. She glanced across the room, scanning the groups of other students, trying to gauge how bearable her gym class would be this year.

"Don't tell me we have class with half of the lacrosse team again," Tamara groaned, pointing at a pile of guys at the other end of the gym. "They always pick one guy and torture him all semester, looks like they're starting earlier this year."

Nabulungi strained her eyes to try and see who the poor kid they were taunting, playing keep-away with his glasses. When she got a good look at his face, her eyes went wide and she got to her feet.

"Where are you going?" Tamara asked, though Nabulungi ignored her as she stormed over to the boys.

"_Hey!_" she all but shouted once she was close enough to the group. "Five against one? I didn't know you were that pitiful."

The tallest out of the five smirked at her and tossed the glasses to the ground. Arnold scrambled to pick them up before anything else happened to them. "Big talk for such a little girl," he sneered. "This your boyfriend?" He glanced over at Arnold. "You could do better than him, babe."

Arnold narrowed his eyes. "Leave her alone, guys. What's she done to you?"

The group laughed. "Let's leave Beauty and the Beast alone, guys. Maybe if she kisses him he'll turn into a frog or something," the tall one said. The group laughed again and walked away.

Arnold cleared his throat, face bright red. "Sorry you had to see that," he apologized.

Nabulungi felt her heart pound when he looked up at her. "They're assholes, they don't matter."

Arnold smiled. "Yeah. Do I… I know you," he amended. Nabulungi could practically see the gears moving in his head. "You're from camp!" he finally exclaimed, a bit loudly.

"Nabulungi," she said slowly.

"Right, yeah, Naba," Arnold said. "Sorry, I'm not very good at remembering faces. But I couldn't forget one as pretty as yours," he said, going bright red after realizing what he'd said.

Nabulungi giggled. "I'm glad you remember me, Arnold," she said with a smile. "I had a lot of fun hanging out with you this summer."

"Yeah, same here." There was a moment of silence before Arnold stuttered out, "Hey, Naba, do you, maybe wanna, I mean if you're not busy, maybe we could…" he trailed off.

"…Go out for ice cream some time?" Nabulungi timidly prompted.

Arnold grinned and nodded. "Yeah, ice cream! So, do you, uh, wanna?"

Nabulungi smiled and blushed a bit. "I would like that," she answered.

"Great!" Arnold said excitedly. "So, uh, is today okay?"

Nabulungi nodded. "Today's good. I'll meet you by the flagpole after school." Arnold nodded, and Nabulungi looked over her shoulder. "I have to go. I'll see you later!" she said, before heading back to her friend. She still hadn't even gotten his number.

* * *

"Sorry there's nothing better to eat," Chris said, carefully carrying a plate of apple slices with peanut butter and two cans of iced tea to the table where James sat, surrounded by papers and textbooks. "My mom's kind of a health nut."

"Oh, this is fine, thanks," James assured him. "Certainly explains why you're so skinny, though." James had meant to be funny, but the reddish tint Chris' cheeks took on clearly revealed his embarrassment.

"Yeah, anyway," Chris said, clearing his throat, "I found some medical books in the basement that might help with the research. I don't know why we have them, both of my parents work in offices, but whatever."

"Hold that thought," James interrupted. "Mind if I use your bathroom?"

Chris nodded. "Go right ahead. Through that door and at the end of the hall," he said, not looking up from a textbook. He kept his eyes trained on the boring text the entire time James was gone, and only glanced up when he plopped back down in his chair. Only now, he looked different.

"You wear glasses?" Chris asked, raising an eyebrow, eyes trained on the thin rectangular frames accenting James' face.

James flushed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, I, uh, usually wear contacts, obviously," he said, sitting back down, "but they were drying out."

Chris nodded as he explained. "I like them," he said bluntly. "You should wear them to school some time."

The color returned to James' face, but turned a few shades pinker than normal. "I can't really wear them with football, since that's not exactly safe, but… I'll consider it. For you," he added on a whim, smirking at Chris, who was suddenly interested in the textbook once more.

"I'm sure the girls would love that, they're very becoming on you," Chris managed to say without stuttering. 'Becoming'? Who even speaks like that anymore?

"Or guys," James replied with an offhanded shrug. The lie seemed to serve it's purpose, as Chris went bright red. Poor kid, he probably wasn't even blushing very hard, he was just so pale that even the slightest hint of color turned him crimson.

"G-guys?" he squeaked out.

"Is that a problem?"

"No, not at all," Chris said, clearing his throat. "I'm glad you can be so open about it."

"It's really not a big deal," James began, but was interrupted by Emma, Chris' younger sister, who decided to run squealing into the room at that moment. Clearly she'd just returned from dance class, as her hair was still pulled back in a tight ballerina bun.

"Chris! Today at school Hannah and me found some caterpillars and Mr. Johnson helped us put them in a little box with a bunch of leaves and sticks and -"

"Who's this?" James cut in, shutting Emma up immediately. She looked at the unfamiliar face, trying to gauge whether or not she was supposed to know him.

"This is Emma, she's my -"

"I'm Emma Michelle Thomas and I'm seven years old and who are you?" she interrupted her brother, giving James the full introduction she'd practiced with her mother.

"I'm James, I'm Chris's friend," he replied with a friendly smile.

She stared blankly at him for another moment. "That's nice. So anyway Chris, Mr. Johnson helped us put the caterpillars in a -"

"Emma, why don't you go watch a movie with Daddy until dinner? James and I have a lot of work to do," Chris suggested.

"But I haven't even told you about the -"

"Come on, Em," Chris said, standing up and lifting his sister. He managed to settle her on his hip and easily carried her out of the room, despite her verbal protests.

As they were headed down the stairs to the basement where their father was watching TV, Emma whispered into Chris' ear, "Your friend is cute."

"If you think so, why don't you ask him to be your boyfriend?"

"Why don't you?"

Chris tensed up. "Boys don't have boyfriends."

"Connor had a boyfriend one time."

"That's different._ I_ don't want a boyfriend."

"I think you liiiike hiiiiim," she teased.

"Just go watch a movie with Daddy," he said dryly, setting her down and watching her run over to the couch where their father sat.

He headed back upstairs and rejoined James. "Sorry about that, she's kind of energetic," he explained.

"It's fine," James said. "You seem to be pretty good with kids."

Chris shrugged. "She's been around since I wad ten. Either I learned to deal with her or I suffered for seven years."

"It can't be that bad," James said. "I mean, I'm an only child, so I wouldn't know, but I can't imagine it's _all_ bad."

Chris thought about it for a moment. "She's a pain sometimes," he began, glancing over his shoulder at the fireplace mantle, decked out with pictures of himself and Emma at any given age. "Even still, I guess I can't really imagine life without her. She's my sister and I love her," he finished fondly.

"That was very poetic," James said with a cheeky grin.

Chris smiled. "Whatever, just read the textbook."

They worked for a solid two and a half hours, practically drowning themselves in medical journals and textbook pages and chromosome abnormalities. The pair was so absorbed in their research that by the time Mrs. Thomas decided to interrupt, they had a goldmine of information for their assignment.

"Chris, hon?" she greeted gently, not wanting to startle them. "Lasagne's almost ready. Would your friend like to stay for dinner? I'm sorry, I never got your name," she apologized, turning to James.

"James Church, ma'am," he said, getting to his feet and shaking her hand like a true gentleman. "You have a lovely home, Mrs. Thomas."

Chris rolled his eyes at his cheesiness, but Mrs. Thomas was clearly flattered. "It's nice to meet you, James," she said with a smile. "Would you like to stay for dinner?"

"If it's no trouble, I'd love to," he replied politely.

She smiled at the two boys. "Alright, it'll be on the table by seven thirty, make sure you boys wash up." With that, Mrs. Thomas headed back to the kitchen.

"You're certainly a gentleman," Chris said with a teasing smirk once his mother was out of earshot.

James shrugged. "She's a lovely lady. Not a surprise, looking at how her son turned out."

There was that warm tinge in his cheeks and the lightheaded feeling again. Chris willed his skin to remain it's natural color. "Oh really? And how did her son turn out?" he asked with a quirked eyebrow. Two can play at that game.

"Well, he's a pretty good kid, overall," James began, looking directly at Chris. "Smart, friendly, cute, loves his family…"

Their eyes remained locked for a few seconds, Chris trying to comprehend the compliments James had listed, James gauging his reaction. "We… Should probably clean this up before dinner," Chris said slowly, flipping closed a textbook.

James nodded and helped him clear off the table. They headed to the bathroom and washed up silently, and returned to the dining room as if nothing had happened.

James was certainly a family favorite. His parents thought he was polite and interesting, and even Emma took a shine to him. The dinner was practically a party with James there.

"So, James, what do your parents do? I can't say I know them," Mr. Thomas asked as the meal was coming to a close.

James tensed up slightly. "My Mom works part-time at the florist and my Father's in construction," he said.

Chris raised an eyebrow at his flat tone, but decided not to press the issue.

"I'll have to introduce myself next time I'm at the florist," Mrs. Thomas said, clearing the table. "She sounds like a nice woman."

"Yeah," James said fondly, "she's really great."

They maintained conversation for a while, Chris mostly keeping to himself as James expertly entertained everybody. It was only when Emma yawned that Mrs. Thomas realized what time it was.

"Gosh, it's half past nine, you boys have school tomorrow!" she said, sounding disappointed that the evening had to end.

"Can I take you home?" Chris asked, noting that James hadn't shown up in a car.

James bit his lip before replying. "Yeah, sure, thanks," he finally said, and Chris went to go get his keys.

James thanked Mr. and Mrs. Thomas and said goodbye to the family, earning a hug from Emma. He and Chris headed outside to Chris' car. It wasn't anything fancy, but it drove, so he was content.

"You were practically the life of the party," Chris said with an amused smile as he pulled out of the driveway.

"I try," James said with a grin. "Left onto route 44 and follow that until you find Lauer Road," he directed.

The car was silent for a bit as Chris followed the unfamiliar route. He wanted to say something, but the only topics of discussion he could think of wouldn't likely end well. So both boys kept to themselves until Chris needed more direction.

"Uh, you can let me off here, I can walk the rest of the way," James said.

Chris raised his eyebrow and pulled over. "Really? Why?" he asked, looking at James. "It's no trouble, really."

James smiled and shook his head. "It's a really tough road to maneuver in the dark if you haven't done it before. I don't want you to risk crashing." Chris looked at him skeptically. "Really, it's fine. Thanks for tonight, man, I had a lot of fun. See you tomorrow?"

Chris stared at him for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, no problem, James. See you tomorrow," he finally said.

James grinned and opened the door, left the car, and waved as he walked down the dimly lit road. Chris waved back slowly, watching James walk away until he dissolved into the darkness. Finally he turned around and headed back home, blissfully unaware of the violent screaming match that James was headed home to.


	4. Like a Romantic Comedy

Nabulungi nearly dumped out the contents of her brown paper lunch bag when she excitedly sat down at the table with Connor and Chris. The two boys stared at the nearly-squealing girl curiously for a moment, expecting her to explode. "So, Nabulungi, how was your –"

Chris barely got his sentence out before Nabulungi cut him off. "It was so fun and Arnold is so sweet and we talked for hours and the manager finally asked us to leave because we finished our ice cream and hadn't moved for two hours so we went to the park and walked around and then he walked me home and he is so cute and such a gentleman and –"

"Breath," Connor prompted a slightly pink-faced Nabulungi, who had gotten the entire explanation out in one breath.

Nabulungi took a deep breath and took a sip from her water bottle to give herself a moment to calm down. "Sorry," she mumbled, a sheepish smile on her face. "I just had so much fun. He's so polite and such a gentleman. He tried to pay for my ice cream but I wouldn't let him."

"Let me guess, he held your purse, walked you to your doorstep, and asked permission before trying to kiss you, too?" Connor teased.

Nabulungi smirked at him. "No, yes, and no. He didn't try to kiss me at all. Just because _you're_ easy doesn't mean everyone else is," she shot back.

"Hey, Mike and I had a spark, that doesn't make me _easy_," Connor defended.

"Sounds like you and Arnold had a bit of a 'spark', too," Chris said nonchalantly. "Did you at least get his number this time?"

Nabulungi nodded, her excited smile slowly coming back. "I did. And we have a study date this weekend."

"Sounds romantic," Chris said, smiling and rolling his eyes.

"Speaking of romantic study dates," Connor began, wagging his eyebrows at Chris. "How'd it go?"

Chris stared blankly at the redhead for a moment before frowning. "It was _not_ a date and it was _not_ romantic. I'm _not_ gay," he said, feeling as though he'd repeated the mantra thousands of times.

Connor raised his hands in submission. "Alright, alright, sorry, it's just so easy to tease you." Chris looked less annoyed, so he rephrased his question. "But still, how was studying?"

"It was fine," Chris said dryly, trying not to give Connor any reason to make more jokes. "We got most of the research for the project done. Now we just have to make it into something presentable."

"That's boring," Nabulungi cut in. "My story was better."

"That's because your story involved a romantic interest," Connor said matter-of-factly. "That always makes a story better. Like a romantic comedy."

"Good point," Nabulungi said, tapping her chin. Her eyes lit up. "We really need to get you a girlfriend, Chris." She managed to catch herself and say girlfriend, not wanting to upset her friend like Connor had.

"I'm not interested in girls," Chris said, most of his attention on his lunch.

"That's not fair, that's making it _way_ to easy," Connor said, desperately trying not to make a joke.

Chris glared at him. "Not like that! I'm not interesting in _dating_. High school relationships are so pointless, it's not like they're actually going to _go_ somewhere."

"Gosh, sorry Mr. Grumpy Gus," Connor said. "They're still fun. You just wouldn't know since you've never had one." Nabulungi nodded in agreement.

"What's the point of starting one if you're just going to get hurt in the end?"

Connor and Nabulungi left the question hanging in the air for a moment, looking to one another for an answer. Finally, they both looked back at Chris and said in unison, "Experience."

"What?"

Connor shrugged. "Apparently I used to be a horrible kisser," he began, "but now, you see that guy over there?" He jabbed his thumb in the direction of a boy sitting a few tables away, lips locked with those of his girlfriend, "I could get even him to enjoy it."

Chris raised an eyebrow. "So you're saying, since I don't have a girlfriend, I'm a bad kisser?"

"Only one way to find out!" Nabulungi began, leaning across the table before letting a fearful Chris frantically stop her. "I'm joking, gosh, calm down!"

Connor was laughing, and Chris only rolled his eyes. "Thought you said you weren't easy," he said, smirking at her.

"I am not!" Nabulungi defended, tossing a crumpled-up napkin at Chris.

A mini food-fight erupted between the three, mostly dry goods that wouldn't leave a stain on anything (Connor would _not _be happy). They all laughed and enjoyed themselves, before quietly returning to their lunches. The whole time, however, that stupid, juvenile question was on Chris' mind, leading to other questions that he certainly didn't want to deal with in the cafeteria. _'Am I a bad kisser? Am I inexperienced? Am I going to get taken advantage of because I don't know what I'm doing?'_

And, of course, the question that bothered him most of all – _'Do I sound like a total teenage girl right now?'_

* * *

James waved goodbye to Vince as he walked down the street, friendly smile almost instantly disappearing once his face was out of his friend's sight. As he slowly made his way into his neighborhood and towards his house, dragging his shoulder pads in one hand, holding his duffle bag in the other, he wondered how long he was going to be able to keep this from the team.

He wasn't sure why it was so odd to them, but everyone who took him home from football practice asked why he'd like to be dropped off at the end of the street. _"I like the bit of exercise," _he'd tell them in the daylight when his tough-to-navigate-road excuse wouldn't fly. They would look at him strangely and let him out, offhandedly commenting that he just ran drills for two hours. He would always sigh with relief when they did so.

Slowly, his house came into view, hidden only by a few trees in the front yard. He winced as he saw his father's car in the driveway. Looking at his watch, he realized for the first time that practice had gone later than he'd thought – actually, practice ended at the normal time, his ride was just a little hung up flirting with a cheerleader.

Sighing, he opened the mail box, unsurprised to find it stuffed with not only today's mail, but yesterday's as well. He walked as slowly as possible up the steps to his front door, letting his hand linger on the doorknob, unwilling to turn it.

He heard a crash and a few shouted, slightly muffled obscenities come from inside. Judging by the sound of it, someone had thrown a vase or a picture frame. He tried to imagine the smashed glass and plastic lying on the floor, distorting the family portrait it once protected with its jagged edges. He found the image disturbingly easy to visualize.

The fight was clearly taking place in the living room, or his parents had gotten _much_ louder since he'd left for school that morning. He certainly didn't want to walk into that, so he picked up his shoulder pads and headed around the house, opting to go in through the back and quietly slip into his room without being noticed.

He pulled at the back door, hinges slightly rusted and unwilling to let him in. Finally he wrenched it open and stepped inside the porch, slightly glancing through the sliding glass door that gave him a clear shot of the living room.

Yup, it had been a picture frame.

He winced and stepped back, hiding behind the wall as his father came into view. It was a lot easier for him to hear what the man was saying now, but James wished he hadn't been able to. The things he said were practically unreal yet so familiar to the boy. His mother easily shot back her vicious retorts, but as usual, her voice was weaker and less powerful than her husband's.

Finally, "Leave that damn _mistake_ of a kid _out_ of this! This is between you and me!"

James stood frozen, desperately trying to move his feet yet finding himself unable to. He dropped his duffle bag and shoulder pads, aware of the loud noise they made but sure it would go unnoticed. It wasn't the first time he'd heard something of the sort come out of his dad's mouth, but it had the same effect every time.

Throwing out his initial plan to hide in his room with headphones on, blocking out the world around him, James turned around, forced the door back open, and ran.

* * *

"Yeah, see you later Becky," Chris called over his shoulder as he headed out of the library for the night. Becky promised she'd close up that night to repay Chris for covering her shift. He headed out the door without much thought, and nearly tripped over the person seated on the curb. "Woah, sorry about – James?"

James looked up at him with a goofy smile. "That's one way of saying hello," he said.

"What're you doing here?"

"What, a guy can't come visit his good friend at work once in a while?"

"You were sitting outside on the curb. It's nine at night. What's this about?"

James took a deep breath. "I need to ask you for a favor. A really big favor."

Chris sat down next to him. "Sure, what's up?"

"Well, I… Everything I say is for your ears only, okay?" Chris nodded. "I, ah, I need a place to stay for the night."

"What happened?"

"My parents are, well, they haven't exactly been sleeping in the same bed lately. And dad came home a little pissed off tonight and they were fighting again and I can't stand being around them when they're screaming at each other. So I, uh, left."

Chris was silent for a moment. "Wow, that's pretty heavy stuff," he finally said.

James nodded slowly. "Yeah. And I don't really want the guys on the team knowing about this, so I came to you."

They stared at each other for a long moment, James silently begging for help, Chris trying to determine if the other boy was being genuine or not.

Finally, "Alright, get in the car."

James' eyes lit up. "Thank you so much, Chris," he said, leaning over to awkwardly hug his friend. Chris raised an eyebrow, patting him on the shoulder.

He didn't know why, but he knew James was being totally genuine. This wasn't the macho football player side of James that he saw around school. This was a real guy who was going through real issues. He felt his chest tighten at the thought that James had come to him before anyone else.

The short ride home was mostly silent, with James occasionally thanking Chris once more for taking him in, only to have Chris assure him it was alright.

Chris' mother ate up their "His parents are out of town and he's locked out of his house" excuse like cake. She was clearly excited to get to have him over again, but she tried to hide that.

"Of course you can stay the night; it _is_ Friday, after all! Oh, this is so different; usually it's Emma having the little sleepovers…"

They'd missed dinner, so Chris reheated leftover pizza his mother had begrudgingly let them order when she was too tired to cook. He gave James a set of his dad's pajamas to wear (all of Chris' clothes were far too small for the taller, more muscular boy) and they worked on their project for a bit before deciding to pop in a movie.

"_Just Friends_?" James asked, examining the disk case in his hand as Chris set up the DVD player. "Is that a hint?" he teased.

Chris ignored him, not risking letting the other boy see any kind of color his cheeks may have taken on. "It's a cute movie," he said, finally getting the TV to cooperate and begin playing the menu screen. "And it's got Ryan Reynolds in it so you know it's good."

James sat down on the couch and was joined by Chris as soon as he was sure the movie was running. "Even in a fat suit he looks good," James commented once the character showed up on screen. Chris nodded in agreement.

They watched the movie in mostly-silence, surrounded by the mountain of blankets and pillows Chris' mom and sister insisted they needed to properly enjoy the movie. Their respective stresses from work and home, added to the overwhelming comfort from the bed-like setup the couch had become, caused both boys to nod off towards the middle of the movie.

"Chris?" Mrs. Thomas asked softly, entering the room as quietly as possible. When she got no response, she slowly padded over to the couch, smiling as she spotted the pair. They were both wrapped up in blankets, heads tilted slightly towards the other's as they softly slept. Mrs. Thomas smiled fondly, abandoning her initial plan to move them to Chris' room where she'd set up a spare mattress. She leaned down and kissed her son softly on the forehead before leaving them in peace.


	5. Trust Me

Chris was beginning to think he was far too easily embarrassed when it came to James Church. He certainly found himself in more than enough embarrassing situations with the other boy – awkwardly showering next to him, tripping over him on the way out of work, just a few more instances with him than with any of his other friends.

Because of this fact, he was caught off guard when he woke up the next morning, much closer to James than he'd remembered being the night before, only a few inches separating their foreheads. It wasn't the not-exactly-close-but-closer-than-he'd-have-liked proximity that startled Chris, it was the fact that his first reaction wasn't to jump up and put some space between them. That he was comfortable where he was. _That_ was what caused his face to go red.

So he'd awkwardly slinked to the other end of the couch and feigned sleep until Emma came bursting into the room, smiling and giggling at how "cute" they looked. They'd laughed her off and ate breakfast, and then Chris brought James home. He offered to let him stay longer, but James insisted that both his parents would be out at work by then, and they probably wouldn't be happy if he was gone much longer.

Chris thought about what Emma had affectionately dubbed their "slumber party" nonstop all weekend. Or just thought about James in general. What was happening to him at home, how his parents had reacted to him up and leaving, whether or not he was _okay_. Way too often he would catch himself thinking about him, tell himself to stop, and then start thinking about the fact that he was _thinking_ about him. It was a vicious cycle that just kept on going until biology class on Monday.

They got together in the library after school on Monday and Tuesday to put the finishing touches on their project, and Chris was a little reluctant to hand it in on Wednesday. It was great, definitely A- material, but he rather enjoyed getting to work on it with James. For someone he wouldn't have normally spoken to if he hadn't been paired up with him (and there were _plenty_ of girls in his class that would gladly take James off of his hands), he really did enjoy spending time with him.

He really, _really _enjoyed spending time with him.

And that fact scared the hell out of Chris.

* * *

Nabulungi nervously tapped her pen against her notebook in English class Thursday afternoon. Chris glanced over at her and raised an eyebrow. "What are you so jittery about? You have a test later or something?"

"These are good jitters," Nabulungi shot back immediately, smiling at Chris. "The homecoming game is tomorrow night."

"But don't you hate football?"

"Yeah, so?"

"…But you're still excited about the homecoming game?"

"Yeah!"

Chris stared at her blankly for a moment. "Okay, I'll bite, _why_ are you so excited?"

Nabulungi bit her lip and Chris swore he heard her practically squeal before she answered. "Because Arnold and I are going together and I think he might make it official and I can't wait!"

Her excitement was so contagious, Chris couldn't help but smile. "That doesn't sound very romantic, as far as I know he's not very into football either."

"Well, no," Nabulungi began, "but he does like the marching band, so we're going to hang out under the bleachers while the game is going on and watch the halftime show. That way we get to spend time together, _alone_."

"Very exciting," Chris began, turning his attention back to his work. "Be sure to tell me how it goes."

"What, you mean you're not going to the game?" Nabulungi asked, sounding disappointed.

Chris shook his head. "I barely know anything about football; I'll be lost the whole time."

"Well, Connor's going, and he probably knows even less about it than you," Nabulungi said.

"You know exactly why Connor's going," Chris replied, and the two shared a laugh. "I love the guy to death, but he's really got to talk to him at some point. Admiring him from afar isn't exactly working out."

"Maybe I can give him a hand with that," Nabulungi offered. "I think Arnold is friends with Kevin. At least, he talks about him pretty often."

"You do that. I'm still not going to the game," Chris said, trying to end the conversation by focusing on the worksheet in front of him.

"Aw, come on! It'll be fun! You and Connor can make fun of the cheerleaders when they fall off the pyramid!"

Chris sighed. Nabulungi was persistent and he knew that, he wasn't sure why he even bothered arguing with her. "Alright, you win, I'll go. But you'd better have a really great story to tell me come Monday, or I won't forgive you."

Nabulungi smiled. "I'll do my best. You'll have fun, trust me. And you'll get to see James!" She added the last part on a whim, hoping she wouldn't embarrass or offend Chris like she had so many times before. But Chris' face softened and she could have sworn she saw the tiniest hint of pink colorize his pale cheeks. He mumbled something she didn't quite catch and turned back to his work.

_'You'll thank me later,'_ she thought to herself with a smile.

* * *

"You're such a theatre geek," Chris remarked as he watched Connor lift his binoculars to his eyes. It was finally the night of the homecoming football game, and nearly the entire school, along with a few brave students from the visiting team, was crammed into the bleachers.

"Whatever works. Besides, I've got a much better view of the players than you do," Connor said, following the ball as it traveled down the field.

"I think you mean _a_ player," Chris laughed, noticing that Connor's gaze lingered on everybody's favorite running back.

"Not the one you'd assume," Connor said, binoculars moving to follow another player. "Chris, check this out, I think something's wrong with James."

Chris raised an eyebrow and snatched the binoculars from Connor. "What do you mean?" he asked, trying to find the boy in question.

"Watch how he's running."

Finally Chris managed to find James, staring intently at him through the binoculars. He wasn't running nearly as fast as he normally would, and he had a clearly pronounced limp. "What d'you think is wrong?" he asked, concern evident in his voice. He watched as James was easily tackled, the ball snatched out of his hands like he had handed it to the other team. His coach was clearly not happy, because the first chance he got, he sent James limping back to the locker room and called in a bench warmer.

"I hope he's okay," Connor said sympathetically. He glanced to the side when he got no response. "Chris?" he asked, finding nothing but a pair of binoculars left where his friend once sat. Glancing over a few heads, he saw the blonde making his way through the crowds and towards the locker room.

Chris entered the locker room as silently as possible. He glanced down each row of lockers until his eyes finally landed on James, who was sitting on a bench with his head in his hands, still decked out in all of his gear save his helmet and his jersey, which lay a few feet away from him.

He sat down next to James without a word. They sat silently for a few long minutes, before James sat up and glanced over at Chris. "You're missing the game," he said matter-of-factly.

Chris shrugged. "I'm not that big into football, anyway. I only really came because it's homecoming," he said. He smiled at James but the other boy looked utterly defeated. "What's wrong?"

"I'm off my game today, I guess," James said, sounding unconvincing.

"That's all?"

James sighed and began taking his shoulder pads off. "That's about it," he said dryly.

Chris scooted a bit closer now that the bulky equipment wasn't separating them. "You can trust me," he said softly. "What's wrong?"

Without a word, James began removing the pads on his left leg, wincing slightly as he did so. He pulled off his cleat and sock, and began gingerly rolling up his pant leg. As he revealed more and more of his leg, his skin began gradually turning from its normal tanned tone to an unsightly brownish-purple color around his knee, slightly swelled larger than normal. It was practically painful to look at the clearly displaced kneecap.

Chris' breath hitched in his throat the moment he saw the injury, and stared in shock as James revealed more of it. "How did this happen?" he asked slowly once James had rolled up the pant leg as far as it would go. The bruise covered his knee and trailed up his thigh, continuing under the rolled up fabric.

James was silent, slowly extending his leg as much as he could, unable to fully straighten it out comfortably.

"James, look at me. What happened?" Chris wasn't stupid; he knew it wasn't just some football injury.

Finally, James sighed and looked at Chris. "I got it from my dad, alright?" he said simply in a dull voice.

"_What?_" Chris asked suddenly, shock evident in his voice. "What did he do?"

"He was drunk," James started with, as if that would somehow make it sound less awful. "He and my mom were arguing again and he got a little violent and I wasn't going to put up with that." He figured Chris was smart enough to put the rest of the pieces together himself.

"You need to tell somebody about this, James," Chris said seriously.

"I'm fine. It's not going to happen again."

"How do you know that?"

"Just leave it, alright?" James said, raising his voice a bit. "I'll just put up with it until I leave for college, they'll get a divorce like they so obviously want to, and we'll all live happily ever after as a broken family."

Chris stared at him silently, mouth gaping as he tried to form a coherent sentence. "You're better than that," he finally got out, shaking his head. "You're a good person and you don't need to put up with that. You don't need to keep a secret like this." He gingerly reached out and barely grazed James' knee with his fingertips. The light touch caused James to visibly wince. "That looks really bad."

"It's probably broken," James said dully, shrugging his shoulders.

"For crying out loud, James, you need to tell someone about this so you can get help!"

"You don't get it!" he all but shouted at Chris. "I can't tell anyone about this! If I tell someone, they'll tell someone else, and there'll be rumors and some kind of child protection investigation and I can't _deal_ with that right now! My mom can't deal with that right now. I'm just going to – mmph."

He couldn't finish his rant as Chris leaned forward and crushed their lips together. James stiffened at first, totally taken by surprise. He slowly melted at the gentle yet urgent touch, and eventually began to reciprocate, pressing back with a slight curiosity. As soon as he did, though, Chris pulled back, as if realizing what he had just done.

"You're worth so much more than that," Chris breathed against his lips. "Promise me you'll get help?"

James let out a breath before replying. "I promise."

"Good." Chris put some distance between their faces and James noticed that he was bright red. "I, uh, I'm gonna go," the blonde said hastily, heading out of the locker room as quickly as possible.

James felt his chest tighten and lifted his fingertips to brush against his lips, trying to sort out everything that had happened in that short time. "Wow," he finally managed to get out, barely a whisper. The three letter word didn't even begin to capture what he was thinking.


	6. Okay

Chris flopped down on his bed and pressed his palms into his eyes.

"Don't panic," he muttered to himself. "Just analyze the situation."

He'd kissed him. He'd kissed _James_. He had gotten caught up in the moment and he'd _kissed_ James C_hurch_.

"It was nothing. I just had to get him to come to his senses somehow."

Chris knew that was a lie. You don't just kiss your friend to get him to listen to you. Especially when your friend is a guy. And you don't like guys.

"I don't like boys," Chris tried to assure himself.

But every time he thought about those soft lips pressed against his own, offering the tiniest bit of reciprocation, his chest tightened and a swarm of butterflies emerged in his stomach. Every time he thought about those strong hands revealing that grotesque injury, he felt his heart sink. And every time he thought about those gorgeous green eyes outlined by those rectangular glasses the other was so shy about, his head got cloudy and he couldn't think straight.

James seemed to have that effect on Chris.

"I don't like boys," he repeated, voice wavering.

Why was it, then, that he almost constantly had _this_ boy on his mind? Looking back, he obsessed over James almost as much as Connor obsessed over Kevin – Chris was just a bit more subtle about it. When he wasn't around James, he was thinking about being around James, or hoping someone would bring James up. And when they did, he would always end up blushing. Any other guy and he wouldn't react that way, but with James it was different.

"I just like spending time with him," Chris said, practically in a whisper.

He knew he was scraping the bottom of the barrel at that point. Why was this so hard for him to accept? Connor seemed perfectly okay with himself, why couldn't Chris just do the same?

Chris took a deep breath, only just noticing that he was trembling. "Maybe I'm not straight," he muttered, his words slightly muffled as his face lay pressed into his pillow.

Maybe? He'd never had a crush on a girl in his life. He'd felt incredibly awkward and uncomfortable during a party in freshman year when he was forced into the spare bedroom for seven minutes in heaven with a girl from his math class - hell, he wouldn't even let her kiss him. And he had _definitely_ enjoyed that kiss just hours earlier.

"Maybe I'm definitely not straight…" he amended, still not feeling any less anxious about the situation. The first step was acknowledging it, he tried to remind himself, so he took a deep breath and mustered up all of his courage.

"I'm… gay."

He squeezed his eyes shut as soon as the declaration left his lips, expecting to spontaneously combust or something similar. But he didn't. He was fine. He actually felt… Better. His trembling slowly subsided and his heart rate returned to normal.

"I'm gay," he repeated, his voice stronger and more confident. The two little words had lifted a metaphorical weight off of his shoulders and he sat up.

"I'm gay." His lips cracked into a smile as he repeated the phrase once more. This was easy. This was okay. He was going to be okay. Suddenly he couldn't remember why it had been such an issue before.

Now he just had to figure out what to do about the boy who'd made him reach that realization.

He groaned and flopped back onto the bed at the mere thought.

* * *

"And so I'm wide open, and the guy doesn't even – James, hello, you listening, dude?"

James blinked a few times and glanced at Noah. "Yeah, sorry, what were you saying?"

"That he's joining a Peruvian pan flute band and touring across the country next spring," Eric said nonchalantly.

"Oh, really? That's cool, man."

"James, seriously? That was a joke."

"Right, sorry," James said. "I've just got a lot on my mind lately."

"That reminds me," Vince said, haphazardly stuffing his football gear back into his duffel bag after a long practice. "How's lover boy doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean," Vince said, rolling his eyes. "He in love with you yet, or what?"

It took James a moment before the change of subject registered. "Oh, you mean Chris?" he asked, earning himself Eric and Noah's attention. Kevin glanced up from untying his cleats, but made a face and went back to intently undoing the tight double-knots his laces were in. "I, uh, I dunno. Maybe?"

"Maybe?" Noah asked, his tone prompting James to elaborate.

"I don't know, man. I think so?"

"Oh really? Why's that?" Vince asked, raising an eyebrow.

James bit his lip. "I just have a feeling, is all."

Vince nodded, a small smile playing at his lips. "He probably does, haven't you guys hung out a couple times?"

James nodded. "Once or twice for a biology project." He certainly wasn't going to tell the guys about the night he spent with Chris. And mentioning the kiss was out of the question.

"Great!" Eric said, slapping him on the back. "Come Friday night and he'll be all over you."

Biting his lip, James glanced between each of his teammates. "I don't know about this, guys. I don't think I really want to go through with this any more."

Noah raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"You don't have to _actually_ do any gay shit, man. We'll make sure he keeps his hands to himself," Vince said. James tried not to roll his eyes at the irony. "C'mon, be a pal, take one for the team! It'll be fun!"

"Fun for you guys, maybe," James began, shooting Vince a look, "but how do you think it's gonna make him feel? Is this really something that's our business?"

"What's the worst that could happen? He's gotta come out some time. We're just speeding up the process is all," Eric justified.

"Would you want something like this to happen to you?" James asked, searching through his bag for his clothes. He noticed out of the corner of his eye that Kevin was listening again, eyes flicking between James and Vince.

Vince shrugged. "I think you're exaggerating the consequences a little, dude. Sure, he'll be upset for a couple days, but then he'll realize, hey, we did him a favor. Now it's over and done with. Like ripping off a bandage, you gotta do it quickly or it'll hurt more."

Kevin slammed his locker shut and grabbed his bag, heading out of the room in a huff. James watched him leave with a look of sympathy and confusion, at a loss for what was bugging him.

"What's his problem?" Noah piped up.

"Probably girl stuff, he doesn't have a date yet from what I've seen," Eric suggested.

"Whatever," Vince said, bringing the discussion back to the previous topic. "So what d'you say, Jamesie? You with us, or against us?" He held out his hand for James to shake.

James sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, before taking Vince's hand. "With you," he finally said, wanting nothing more than to get the guys off his back.

"Good," Vince said with a smile, picking up his bag. Eric and Noah did the same. "We'll see you tomorrow, then. Keep up the good work, lover boy," he said, the three of them heading out of the locker room.

James slung his bag over his shoulder and let out a sigh, trying to pretend he hadn't done what he'd just done.

* * *

"Excuse me; can I talk to you for a minute?"

Connor sighed in annoyance and slipped a bookmark in the book he was reading. He had specifically come to the library to be able to read in peace, and he was already getting interrupted? He turned to the voice with an annoyed look on his face, which quickly turned to surprise. "Uh, sure, Kevin, what's up?"

"There's something really important I need to talk to you about," Kevin said, sitting across from Connor.

"Yeah, what about?"

Kevin took a deep breath. "It's about your friend Chris," he began.

Connor's mood deflated. Of course, the one time Kevin Price actually talks to him, he wants to talk about somebody else. "What about him?"

"It's just that," Kevin began, trying to figure out how to word things, "I know some stuff that he should know about, but I know he's not going to listen to me, so I figured since you're his best friend, he might listen to you."

"What's this about, Kevin?"

Kevin bit his lip before replying. "Connor, is Chris gay?"

Connor raised an eyebrow. "How is that any of your business?" he asked skeptically.

"Please, I mean no ill will, and anything he wants kept a secret is safe with me. I promise," he said, holding his hand out.

Connor stared at him for a few more moments, sizing him up, trying to determine if it was safe to say anything. Somehow, he seemed trustworthy. "He insists he's not, but honestly I've had my doubts for a while now…"

Kevin nodded. "The thing is, you're not the only one who thinks that. See, some of the guys from the football team… I don't know what their problem with him is, but they're trying to out him."

Connor's eyebrows shot up. "What?" he asked in disbelief.

"They've got James Church trying to lead him on so they can out him at the homecoming dance. And from what James has told the team, it's working."

Connor was silent for a long moment. Finally, "Are you serious?"

"I wouldn't joke about something like this."

Connor bit his lip. "This is bad. He really likes James. He thinks Nabulungi and I can't tell but it's really obvious."

Kevin nodded. "James knows, too. He tried to back out of the plan, he's starting to think it's not such a great idea either, but the guys have him wrapped around their fingers. That's why I had to tell you, if I tried to tell Chris he wouldn't believe me for a second."

Connor narrowed his eyes. "Hold up, why should I believe you? You're one of those football guys too, how do I know I can trust you? And why are you telling me this _now_ rather than when this whole plan was started?"

Kevin sighed. "I knew you'd say that," he began, "and I understand where you're coming from. I tried to talk them out of it but they weren't going to budge. I thought that they would get bored and give up after a day or two like they usually do with their stupid plans, so I left it alone. But it's escalated to this point and I couldn't keep quiet about it anymore. I know I sound like a pretty awful person for not saying anything until now."

Connor stared at him. "You're not an awful person. But why do you care?" he asked. "This doesn't affect you. Why do you care about what happens to some kid you've never spoken to before?"

Kevin bit his lip before replying. "Because I know what it feels like to not be ready to come out, alright?" His tone was both defensive and afraid, a tone Connor knew all too well. Connor stared at him with wide eyes, so Kevin continued. "I can't imagine what being outed would feel like, and I don't want someone else to find out because I was too afraid to speak up."

Connor was surprised, to say the least. Looking back, he really had no reason to believe Kevin was gay until this point, which was why he had been keeping his crush to himself and his friends. "So you're…?" He didn't finish the sentence; rather, he let Kevin do it for him.

"Yeah. I don't really want anybody to know yet. You seem like a trustworthy person, though."

Connor nodded. "Yeah, of course, I won't say anything. But Kevin," he said gently, reaching across the table to rest his hand on the other boy's, "I can help you with that. Until you're ready."

Kevin smiled fondly. "Thank you. But first, we've got work to do."


	7. Idiot

Christopher Thomas felt like a new man.

Accepting himself seemed to instantly increase his confidence. He felt more in control of his life, more in control of his emotions. He felt more comfortable knowing who he really was.

That didn't mean he was ready to _tell_ anyone about it, but progress was progress.

Despite his lingering insecurities, in the few days leading up to the homecoming dance, Chris found himself actively seeking James' attention, rather than avoiding him like he'd initially planned. It was as if Normal Chris had gone on vacation, and Flirty Chris had stepped in to take his place.

James had noticed this, and was a little put off, for two reasons: It just made what was likely going to happen that Friday night all the more difficult; and more importantly, he actually _liked_ the attention.

So as they were leaving biology on Wednesday morning, he decided to try and diffuse the situation.

"Hey," he said, lightly taking Chris' arm as he was heading out the door. He pulled him over to the side of the hallway so they could talk. "So, were you by any chance planning on going to the homecoming dance on Friday?" If Chris wasn't going, nothing bad could happen. The guys couldn't hold it against him if he just didn't go.

"Yeah," Chris replied, raising an eyebrow. "Why?" James didn't like the slightly hopeful tone in his voice.

He shrugged. "Just wondering," he said lamely.

"Right…" Chris said, looking at him skeptically. "Anyway, I gotta head, maybe I'll see you there?" And then Chris winked, Chris Thomas _winked_ at James and walked off to his next class, leaving the other boy stunned, suddenly much more aware of the terrible thing he was about to be a part of.

Connor noticed the new, flirty Chris as well, and wasn't so sure he liked him.

"Chris," he greeted, sitting down at the lunch table. Nabulungi had been finishing up a test and assured them that she'd be back before the end of the period. "I need to talk to you about something."

Chris set him sandwich back on the table and smiled. "Can it wait? I couldn't help but notice you were talking to Kevin after economics today. And if I'm not mistaken you got his number?" he trailed off with a sly grin.

Taken by surprise, Connor felt his cheeks warm up. "Uh, I was, I'm helping him with math," he covered, "that's all." He cleared his throat and got back to his point. "But, uh, it's kind of important that I talk to you."

"Sure, what about?"

Connor knew he had to go about this delicately. "Well, you seem a little more… Confident, lately," he began.

Chris shrugged. "I dunno, I guess I'm just having a pretty good week."

Nodding slowly, Connor continued. "That's good. So, uh, how's James?"

"…Fine?" Chris replied after a beat, raising an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Well, it's just, I've noticed you're a bit, I dunno, _friendlier_ with him?"

"Because he's my friend," Chris said slowly, feeling as if he was explaining a basic concept to a toddler. "Where is this heading?"

Connor sighed. The only way he could think to do this was to be blunt, and that was _not _a smart plan. "Chris…" he began, locking their eyes. "Chris, I'm kind of getting the feeling that you've got a _thing_ for James."

Chris opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out for a long pause. "I'm not gay," he assured his friend for what seemed like the millionth time. Though now that he knew it was a lie, he couldn't help but notice how fake the claim sounded. Had he always sounded like that while defending himself?

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," Connor said gently. "You know I'd be the _last_ person to judge you for something like that."

"Well, there's nothing to worry about, because I'm _not gay_," Chris said through gritted teeth. "Now what exactly is the point of this conversation?"

Connor sighed, now aware that Chris was going to make this difficult. "Chris, you're not going to like what I'm gonna tell you, but you have to listen to me. James is _using_ you. He and the football team are trying to out you at the dance because they think it would be funny. He's just leading you on!" He kept his voice down to not attract attention from other students, but the tone of desperation was evident.

Chris stared at him with a look of disbelief, which Connor decided was better than anger. "And how would you know that?" he asked slowly.

"…Kevin told me. He knew about it from the start and felt guilty for not stopping it. Please, Chris, you have to believe me."

The blond stared at the table for a few moments, before looking up with a look that Connor could only describe as _disgust_. "Why should I? Because pretty boy told you, it has to be true?" Chris had no idea where all of that anger had come from but he couldn't stop himself. "You don't know anything about James. He's a good person and wouldn't do something like that. How do you know _Kevin_ isn't the one trying to mess with us?"

"I'm not saying he's a bad person, Chris, he's just going to do something really stupid. I really, really think we should trust Kevin on this one, okay?" Connor pleaded.

"Oh, I get it," Chris began, rolling his eyes. "Because Kevin isn't falling in _love_ with you, you're clinging to me, and you're just jealous that I'm making new friends. Is that it?"

"I – what?" Connor asked, still totally shocked by Chris' reaction. "No! Chris, I'm trying to warn you! I'm being completely serious. These guys are up to no good and I don't want to see you get hurt."

"I'm a big kid, I can make my own decisions and stand up for myself," Chris sneered.

At that moment, Nabulungi decided to plop down in the seat across from the two quarreling boys. "Ugh, you are not going to _believe_ how rough that test was, guys. I had to do – um, is this… Not a good time?" she trailed off, catching on to the less-than-happy looks on both of her friends' faces.

"You know, you're a real piece of work, Connor McKinley," Chris said, shaking his head and collecting his lunch. He headed off to find another place to eat without a word.

Nabulungi's gaze shifted back and forth from Connor to where Chris once sat. "So… What was that about?" she asked tentatively.

"Nothing," Connor said dully, shaking his head. "It's not important."

* * *

Nabulungi waved goodbye to Tamara as they left math class and parted ways. Her locker was in the same hallway as math, so she always stopped there to drop off some books after class. She absentmindedly twirled the lock, dialing in her combination, biting her lip in frustration when the door stayed shut, and finally got the dented metal to swing open.

Inside, she found a small piece of torn notebook paper sitting on top of her history textbook, and Nabulungi managed to catch the foreign object as it started to flutter from the sudden breeze created by the door. She flipped it over and read the simple message scrawled out in big, sloppy handwriting:

_Turn around._

Nabulungi raised an eyebrow and glanced over her shoulder skeptically, but quickly made an about-face, smiling widely.

Arnold stood behind her (well, in front of her now) with a sheepish grin on his face, holding out a single, slightly bent white carnation. "So, uh, hey Nabulungi," he greeted lamely, holding out the flower. "I got this for you, but it kinda, uh, got a little bent in my locker. But the flower still looks nice."

Nabulungi smiled warmly and took the flower. She snapped off the stem, leaving about an inch attached to the flower, and tucked the carnation in her hair behind her ear. "Thank you, Arnold, it's lovely," she said, setting the stem down in her locker and feeling her cheeks warm up a bit. "But what's the occasion?"

"What, can't a guy get a pretty flower for a pretty girl?" Arnold replied, and the two laughed softly. "But really, I uh, wanted to apologize for leaving so suddenly from the football game. I sort of forgot to tell my dad where I was going, and I'm horrible at coming up with excuses, so I had to get home before I broke curfew."

"I understand," Nabulungi said, nodding. "My dad's _so_ protective too and probably would have sent out a search party if I was even ten minutes late."

"I'll keep that in mind," Arnold said without thinking. "W-which leads to my second point," he continued quickly. "I was wondering if, maybe, you'd uh," he trailed off slightly, rubbing the back of his neck, Nabulungi looking at him hopefully. "Do you maybe want to go to the homecoming dance with me? As my…" he mumbled something that was barely audible.

Nabulungi's eyes lit up. "What was that last bit?" she asked, though she had heard exactly what he'd said.

"As my girlfriend?" Arnold repeated, putting on a brave face and looking directly at Nabulungi.

She smiled softly. "That depends," she began, and Arnold nearly winced. "That depends," she repeated, reaching out at taking his hand in hers, "do you want to… Be my boyfriend?"

Arnold nodded excitedly. "Yeah! I'd really, really like that, Nabulungi."

"I'd like that too," she replied sweetly. "Walk me to class?" she asked, squeezing his hand slightly.

"Lead the way," Arnold said. He'd have to make sure they took a detour right past where the lacrosse team usually hung out. Nabulungi certainly wasn't a possession, or an item, but that didn't mean he couldn't show off his new girlfriend just a _little._

* * *

"I hate dances," Connor grumbled, silencing himself by taking a swig from his water bottle. He sat by himself in the back of the gym, the wall lined with chairs that were mostly covered with shoes, purses, and a few panting dancers taking a breather. The redhead's eyes were narrowed, staring intently at the throng of teens bouncing up and down in time with the music.

More specifically, staring at the varsity running back, who was dancing less than the recommended arm's length away from a girl from their economics class.

Connor knew he didn't have the right to be upset, really, Kevin wasn't his boyfriend after all. But something about the situation just didn't sit well with him. Whether it was Kevin deciding it would be better to keep up his stick-straight, alpha-male masquerade rather than go stag, or it was him carelessly using a poor girl who thought she might actually have a chance with Kevin _Price._

Either way, Connor was in no mood to dance. And for him, that was a shock.

"Connor! Hey!" Nabulungi shouted over the unnecessarily loud bass, dragging Arnold along towards where her friend sat. She looked lovely, wearing a simple white dress that matched the carnation adorning the clip keeping her hair back. "Why aren't you dancing?"

Connor scanned the couple over. Their shoulders were heaving and their skin already had a thin layer of sweat; clearly they'd been dancing all night. He didn't know Arnold all too well, but just by looking at him he could tell he wasn't a "dancing" kind of guy. Still, the weary smile he sported while his fingers were laced with Nabulungi's clearly said he was having a great night.

While he was happy his friends were enjoying themselves, he still couldn't raise his own spirits. "Not feeling it," he mumbled, staring down at his own green converse (which matched his tie, of course).

"Well, why don't you dance with us?" Arnold suggested. "I don't really like dancing by myself, but it's more fun when you have some friends with you!"

"And you're such a good dancer, too! I mean," Nabulungi squatted down a bit to keep the other students from hearing her, not that they could over the music, "Tyler Morris is in the middle of the mosh pit and his moves are _terrible_. You can let that just happen, can you?"

Connor shrugged. "I dunno," he began, but was cut off when Nabulungi grabbed his arms and pulled him to his feet.

"Come on, loser, stop moping about boys and have fun with your friends!"

"I'm only moping about one boy!"

"Didn't you have a fight with Chris or something?"

Nabulungi shot Arnold a look and he paled. Leave it to him to say the wrong thing. Connor's face was unreadable. "Forget about him. If he doesn't want to trust his best friend, that's his mistake to make."

"Where is he, anyway? I'm kind of worried," Nabulungi admitted. Connor had only told her bits and pieces of the nefarious plot, but she'd gotten enough to know that something bad was potentially going to happen.

"Haven't seen him all night. I'm wondering if he even ended up coming at all," Connor said, and the three shared a look before heading off to the dance floor to forget their worries.

The reason Connor hadn't seen much of Chris that night, was that the blond had spent most of it weaving in and out of the crowd looking for the only dancer leaning on a crutch, while occasionally retreating to the bathroom for a mental pep-talk.

_ 'I'm gonna do it,' _he'd reminded himself while running a wet hand through his hair, attempting to give it some sex appeal (but only succeeding in making it stick out oddly). _'I'm gonna tell him.'_

After what felt like hours of searching for the boy, Chris finally spotted James by the snack table. "Hey!" he said, heading over to meet the other boy.

"Hey," James greeted by habit, trying to mask his slight disappointment that Chris had shown up. If only he wasn't there, nothing bad could happen to him. "Glad to see you here," he said anyway.

"Likewise," Chris returned enthusiastically. "So, uh, I need to talk to you about something," he began, suddenly aware of how many people were surrounding them. "Over there," he added, taking James by the arm and leading him towards the door to the locker room, the surrounding area mostly empty.

James tensed up but allowed the blond to lead him across the gym, dodging the multitude of students blocking their path. He knew _exactly _what Chris wanted to talk about, and he knew _exactly_ what would happen if he did. "Um, I, uh, actually have to talk to you about something too," he said once they reached the clear space by the locker room. If he could just explain himself and diffuse the situation before the worst happened, _maybe_ Chris wouldn't hate him.

"Can it wait?"

"It's kind of important…"

"Just wait until I finish, okay? I practiced this and I gotta get it all out before I wimp out or something."

James felt glued to the spot as Chris began to explain, frozen by fear of what could happen any second. "So, it's like," Chris started awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, "I like to think we've become pretty good friends over these past few weeks as lab partners," he said, smiling at James.

"Uh, yeah," James agreed, subtly glancing around for his teammates. "But, Chris, I really need to –"

"Hang on a sec, okay?" Chris said sternly. "And over these few weeks, I've sort of – you're just so confident and cool, I guess it sort of rubbed off on me? I feel a lot more comfortable being myself when I'm around you and that led me to realize some things…"

_Oh no._ "Chris, could we maybe do this some other time?" James pleaded, desperately trying to buy himself some time to prevent disaster.

"No, actually, I think now's the perfect time to do this," Chris replied lamely.

"Shit," James muttered, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. "Chris, I need to come clean about something. And you're probably going to hate me after I do but I have to do it."

Chris raised an eyebrow. "I couldn't hate you," he said, "and that's kind of leading in to what I'm trying to say here –"

"Shit, Vince, how do you switch this thing from photo to video?" Both Chris and James' gazes shot to the now slightly ajar door to the locker room as they heard a less-than-inconspicuous whisper.

"For fuck's sake, Eric, keep it down!" another voice hissed back.

"Keep _what_ down?" Chris asked harshly, pushing the door open until he revealed three crouching football players, one of which was holding a digital camera. The blond stared in confusion and disbelief for a moment before narrowing his eyes at James. "What the hell is going on here?" he demanded.

"Chris, I can explain," James began, voice sounding weaker than normal, but Chris cut him off.

"Explain _what_? That Connor was right, and I was just some little _game_ to you? That you wanted to fuck with a guy's feelings because it would be _funny_? You're terrible people," Chris spat at the trio by the door, before turning to James, looking more hurt than angry. "_All_ of you."

James felt his heart sink at the biting words. "I didn't want this to happen," he pleaded, "Chris, if you would just let me talk this out with you, I could –"

"I don't want to hear it," Chris interrupted, blinking back tears. "I get it, James. I was an idiot to think you were any different than those other thickheaded jocks. I was an idiot to _trust_ you."

With that, Chris headed back across the gym and out the door, not a single person on the dance floor paying any attention to what had just transpired. Vince, Eric, and Noah mumbled to each other and slinked off in the other direction, leaving James by the locker room door.

Though surrounded by hundreds of people, James had never felt so _alone_.


	8. Slowly

When James arrived at biology class Monday morning, Chris was standing at Mrs. Martin's desk, having a quiet and seemingly serious conversation. After a moment, Chris returned to his usual seat, and James went to join him, but he was stopped by Mrs. Martin as he passed her desk.

"Oh, James, you'll be working with Michael from now on," she said.

James glanced to the corner of the room where Michael, as usual, slept at his desk. Alyssa, his old lab partner, perked up at the news and excitedly shuffled over to Chris's table, relieved to be rid of her useless partner.

"Great," James muttered, reluctantly taking his new seat.

He certainly didn't blame Chris for not wanting to work with him anymore. He was surprised he hadn't seen it coming, to be honest. Even still, it served to make him feel even worse for what he'd done. He didn't even bother trying to pin any of the blame on his team anymore – sure, it had been their idea, and their fault Chris found out, but James could have stopped all of that.

The first thing he had to do was apologize, he knew that. However, the odds of Chris letting him speak to him for more than three seconds didn't seem very good. The only way he'd be able to get to Chris was through his friends, he decided. Even if that didn't work, they would at least offer some insight on how to go about apologizing.

Connor was his best friend, so James decided to go to him first. He knew the boy had free seventh period and usually spent it in the library, because it was almost always deserted at that time of day. James bit his lip – he had history that period. But class wasn't as important as Chris, he decided.

So seventh period that day, instead of heading to history, James found himself standing awkwardly in the empty library.

The librarians eyed him suspiciously; wary of any unfamiliar faces wandering around their library. James tried not to feel intimidated as he looked around for the redhead.

He spotted a backpack sitting at a table and recognized it as Connor's, but no Connor to go with it. He sighed and figured he must be in the bathroom or wandering the shelves, so James decided to browse them as well.

James slowly paced up and down the rows of books, slyly peeking into each aisle to see if he spotted the boy. After a few minutes, he heard someone speak softly, but knew the voice wasn't Connor's. He ducked into the aisle next to the one he heard the sound come from and peeked through the space left by a few checked-out books.

Kevin and Connor were sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall at the end of the aisle, Connor's arm wrapped around Kevin's shoulders. "But what if the guys just laugh and suddenly I'm an outcast on my own team?" he heard Kevin softly mutter.

"I'm not gonna lie," Connor replied gently, slowly rubbing Kevin's arm, "that _could_ happen. But if it does, then you know what? Forget them. Those guys aren't really your friends. If they don't accept you, then they don't deserve your time."

Kevin glanced around. "You're sure nobody comes in here this period?"

Connor nodded. "I've only seen one other person come in to return a book since the beginning of the year," he reassured him.

"Good," Kevin said, visibly relaxing into Connor's side. James suddenly felt slightly guilty for spying, but held his position. "What about my parents? How am I supposed to tell my dad that his star football player likes guys?"

Connor sighed. "I don't know. It's different for everyone. It took my dad some time, but he eventually came around. I know yours will too if he loves you." Kevin still looked unsure, so Connor smiled at him. "Hey, I do know one thing for sure, though," he said gently.

"What's that?"

Connor took Kevin's chin and slightly tilted it up. "You worry too much," he said, barely a whisper, before softly pressing a kiss on Kevin's cheek.

James's eyebrows shot up. Practically everyone knew that Connor had a "secret" thing for Kevin, but James hadn't even thought Kevin might feel the same. Hell, he had no idea Kevin was _gay_.

Now, he felt _much_ guiltier for listening in on their conversation, and decided it would be best if he left them alone. He snuck away as silently as he could and briskly left the library. Obviously Connor wasn't in any position to give him apology tips.

James glanced at the clock on his way out, trying to leave as quickly as possible to escape the burning gazes of the librarians, and noticed that the period had barely begun. He leaned against the wall outside of the library and sighed. It was late enough to get him into trouble, but not nearly late enough to warrant skipping the rest of the class.

So James reluctantly headed to the nurse's office, exaggerating his limp as much as possible to be allowed to wait out the rest of class there.

While he sat on the plastic bed, allowing the nurse to poke and probe at his knee, James tried to figure out his next move. From what he could remember, Arnold and Nabulungi would usually meet up at the flagpole after classes. He figured he'd be in for one hell of an earful if he approached Nabulungi, but she was his last hope.

He tried to plan out what he'd say to her during his eighth period English class. _"Hey, I'm too much of a wimp to apologize myself to one of your best friends, do you think you could do it for me?"_ He certainly wasn't going to say _that. _Everything he thought of either sounded wrong, or was phrased in Shakespearian English as he tried to devote _some_ of his attention to the copy of _Macbeth_ he was supposed to be reading.

Finally the bell rang, and he soon found himself leaning against the brick wall by the flagpole, subtly scanning the crowd of students for the couple he needed to speak with. He checked his watch periodically, more than willing to be late to practice if it meant getting help.

Eventually he spotted them, holding hands and heading into the parking lot. He hobbled after them as quickly as possible until they were within hearing distance. "Hey," he said, getting Nabulungi's attention, but earning only a glare and a turned back. "Wait, I need to talk to you," he said, catching up with the pair.

"About what?" she asked bitterly, and Arnold instinctively wrapped an arm around her to try and calm her down.

James nearly winced at her incredibly protective tone, unfamiliar with that side of her. "Just listen for a second, please. I can't even begin to explain how awful I feel about what happened, and I need to apologize to Chris."

"That's for damn sure," she muttered, crossing her arms, her eyes still locked in a stern glare.

"Right," James said, rubbing the back of his neck. "But - and you probably already know this, being one of his best friends and all - he's probably not exactly itching to talk to me."

"With good reason," Nabulungi interrupted.

"Well… Yeah. But I was just wondering if there was any way I could get him to let me talk to him, just for a few minutes, so I can explain myself? Then, if he doesn't want to see me ever again, I… I'll try not to mind."

Nabulungi continued to glare at him, ready to turn around and leave, but Arnold nudged her softly. "Come on, give him I chance. I think he's being sincere."

Finally, the girl sighed, and her face lost its bitter, distrusting look. "There isn't some special way to go about doing this. I wouldn't apologize in school, because you couldn't blame him if he assumed you were just attempting round two. Just don't make it seem like you're trying to cover your own ass, and actually let him know that you're apologizing because you care. Not just to clear your own conscience."

"Woah," Arnold said. "That was _deep_." Nabulungi smiled at him.

James nodded. "I really, really appreciate this, Nabulungi."

She started at him, her face expressionless. "Just remember that if you hurt him again," she began, glaring and poking him in the chest, "you _will_ be sorry."

James was tempted to ask her what she might do were that to happen, but the look on her face told him _that was a very bad idea_. So he just gulped and nodded, not daring to look away until she turned around and began to lead Arnold off with her.

"But," she glanced over her shoulder, looking less angry, "good luck."

* * *

The soft knock on the door roused Chris out of his daydream, and he sat up suddenly, startled by the noise. He tried to rearrange the objects on his desk to appear as though he was busy doing something, but Emma had already peeked her head in through the door.

"Chris?" she asked softly, shutting the door behind her. The teen didn't look up from his desk, and instead shuffled around a few random papers. "Can I talk to you?"

"Can it wait, Em? I'm," Chris began, drawing out the word as he glanced at the textbook sitting closest to him, "doing economics homework."

Emma approached the desk slowly, glancing at her brother skeptically. "But that paper says history, and it already has a grade on it," she said, pointing at the sheet Chris was pretending to study.

With a sigh, Chris set down the papers and got to his feet, slumping down on the bed. Emma sat at the end and leaned against the footboard, staring expectantly. "What is it?" he finally asked.

Emma shrugged. "I just wanna see how you are."

"I'm fine."

"I knew you would say that. But you still look sad." Chris shut his eyes and leaned back against the headboard, but remained silent. "Do you wanna talk about it?" Emma asked quietly.

Chris shook his head.

Emma wasn't sure where to go from there, so she crawled towards her brother and sat down next to him. They sat in silence for a moment, before she piped up with, "I'm sorry I picked on you about your friend," she said, and Chris thought back to the very first time he'd had James over. How polite and kind and _sincere_ he'd been…

He felt his eyes well up and he blinked the tears back. "He's not my friend," he said dully, choosing to pay attention to the closet door rather than look at his sister.

"And that's why you're sad," Emma said. It wasn't a question.

The accuracy of his sister's words was surprising, and a few tears slipped down Chris's cheeks before he could stop them. "Yeah," he finally muttered, his voice sounding weak.

Emma felt around for his hand and held it firmly, her small hand fitting delicately into his. "It's okay to be sad," she said softly, staring up at him. "But you know that I love you a lot no matter what, right?"

Chris mustered up a small smile and wrapped an arm around Emma's shoulders. "I love you too, sis," he replied.

"So if you wanna cry, I won't make fun of you."

A few more tears silently fell. "You're way too mature for such a little girl," Chris said, smiling down at Emma.

"Is that bad?"

Chris shook his head. "Nah. Just don't grow up too fast, okay?"

Emma nodded. "I won't if you won't."

* * *

Mrs. Thomas opened the door with her usual welcoming smile, ready to greet whoever had come knocking. It fell, however, when she realized it was James Church standing on the porch, leaning on his crutch. "Hello, James," she said tentatively.

James tried to smile, but felt intimidated under Mrs. Thomas' protective mother stare. "Um, hello Mrs. Thomas," he greeted politely. "May I come in?"

"If you're looking for Chris," she began, sounding more concerned than anything, "he doesn't want to talk to you. He's been spending most of his free time locked in his room."

James sighed. "I figured you'd say that. But I really need to see him. I came to apologize."

Mrs. Thomas stared at him for a moment, debating whether or not it was safe to let James see Chris. All she knew was that James had done _something_ to hurt her son. She had never seen Chris so upset before, and certainly didn't want to make it worse. Finally, she sighed and nodded. "He's upstairs. Don't even think about doing anything to make him upset again," she said sternly.

James nodded. "I won't, ma'am, I promise. And thank you," he said, before heading up the stairs.

Chris mumbled something into his pillow when he heard a knock at his bedroom door. He turned to glance at the visitor as it opened, expecting it to be his mom or Emma. When he saw James slowly enter the room, he held back an annoyed groan and rolled over again, preferring to face the wall than face the other boy.

"Can I come in?" James asked slowly.

"You already have," Chris replied bluntly.

James paused. "Oh, yeah, right," he said, his sheepish smile going unnoticed. "So, um, hey."

"Hey," Chris answered through a huff. "And how are you on this fine day?"

He'd meant it sarcastically, but James took it upon himself to answer. "Not so good," he began. "I did something really, really stupid and probably lost one of the best things I had in my life."

Chris sat up on his elbows and finally looked at James. "Oh really?" he offered skeptically.

"Uh huh," James began, slowly making his way towards the bed. He tentatively sat down on the edge, turning to keep eye contact with Chris and leaning his crutch on the bed. "It all started in first period advanced biology, when we were assigned lab partners. My lab partner was a little squeamish, so he wasn't much help with dissections, but he pulled more than his weight with the written parts, so I liked having him around."

Chris seemed less angry and more interested at this point, so James continued. "My football teammates liked having him around too, but for different reasons. They thought it would be funny if we led him on, and outed him at a dance. And, because I was a stupid asshole, I agreed.

"At first, I was just going along with the plan, telling him I liked guys, complimenting him, trying to get him to like me. And I guess it was working, because one night, in the locker room, he kissed me."

Chris turned his head away, cheeks warming up. James bit his lip and continued.

"As far as I was concerned, I only liked girls. But after he kissed me, I couldn't stop thinking about him. About how much I really liked spending time with him. I did a lot of thinking that weekend, and realized that he was the first person to really _care_ about me.

"Sure, there had been plenty of girls in the past, but I'd realized at some point that all of them were just with me because 'Wow, he's James Church!'. Not because they actually liked me, but because they liked who I was supposed to be. Some popular, football playing jock.

"But this one guy, my lab partner, he saw me as more than that. He liked me even when I wasn't putting on some macho, tough-guy façade. He cared about my well-being when I was too afraid to tell anyone else about my problems at home.

"And after all that thinking, I realized two things: One, I really, really liked my lab partner. More than I'd ever liked someone before, even though he was a guy. And two, I was about to completely and totally ruin everything."

Chris was silent through the whole explanation, trying to keep his face emotionless while his heart slammed in his chest. "So what did you do about it?" he asked slowly.

James bit his lip. "I tried to get out of the plan, because I finally realized just how wrong it was. But somehow, the guys pulled me back in. I guess I was afraid that if I backed out, I'd be rejected by some of the only guys who I called my friends. I was afraid of what would happen if I didn't do what they wanted me to. I was too weak to stand up for myself."

"You're not weak," Chris cut in softly before he could stop himself.

James smiled. "Maybe, but I _was_ being a total asshole."

"I can't argue with that," Chris replied, a slight smirk tugging at his lips.

"So anyway, at the dance, I tried to stop the whole thing from happening. I guess I kind of did, but that was really just from luck. But my lab partner still found out about the plan and was, understandably, incredibly upset. He didn't want to see me afterwards, and got himself a new lab partner. To be honest, I'm surprised he's even letting me speak to him right now.

"I guess I didn't really realize what a terrible mistake I had made until he was gone. And now that he is, I feel like I've lost one of the only really good things I had going for me. And it's all my fault. And I'm _so_ sorry, that I feel stupid saying 'sorry' because that word doesn't even begin to explain how, well, _sorry_ I am."

There was a long pause after that, Chris staring at the floor, James desperately waiting for him to say something. Finally, "I bet your lab partner would have loved to have known all that _before_ you ruined everything," Chris said softly, the slight edge back in his voice.

James sighed. "I know. And I wish I'd been able to _realize_ all of that before I ruined everything, too. But I didn't, because I'm an idiot, and if he never wanted to see me again, I would understand."

"I don't think he never wants to see you again," Chris began, "because even though you're a total asshole, he probably still really likes you, and is just really, really confused about what he should do now."

James felt his chest tighten. "Well, maybe… Maybe someday, he'd think about forgiving me?" he asked hopefully.

Chris was silent again, but soon sat up and looked at James, eyes shining, a soft smile playing at his lips. "Why not today?"

Relief washed over James, and he couldn't contain his wide smile. "So what happens now?" he asked, slowly inching closer to Chris, as much as his bad knee would allow.

The distance between them was significantly decreased as Chris scooted closer to James. "Well, that depends. Is there anything else you would want to say to your lab partner?"

James bit his lip, trying to hide his smirk. "Just that I'd really like to kiss him right about now. If he's okay with that."

Chris grinned, his face only inches away from James'. "I think he would be more than okay with that," he whispered, closing the gap and crushing their lips together.

James inhaled slowly through his nose, making sure to savor the kiss this time, should it end as abruptly as their last. It definitely felt different, better. He could tell that this time, it was something Chris wanted, not just something that happened on an impulse. That, he decided, was a feeling he could get used to.

Chris pulled back, and James immediately noticed his eyes were downcast, just as they'd been after their first kiss. "What're you thinking about?" he tentatively asked, his head still spinning from the kiss.

The blond shrugged. "I'm just…" he began, glancing up to look James in the eye. "You'd understand if I wanted to take this slowly, right? I'm still not really…"

He lost his train of thought and trailed off when James wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and Chris let his head rest on James's shoulder. "Of course. This time, you take as much time as you need, alright?" he asked with a smile. "I promise not to interfere this time around."

Chris grinned. "What about you? Aren't you worried about what the guys will say?"

James rolled his eyes. "Them? Nah. I'll just lay it on them gently, in terms they'll understand."

"So you'll tell them that you're playing for the other team now?"

"That's one way of putting it."


End file.
